


Something that you need

by sea_sighs



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), I'm going straight to Hell, M/M, Masturbating, PWP, Young!Nathan Drake, Young!Samuel Drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_sighs/pseuds/sea_sighs
Summary: Nate is alone, bored and also a teenager. It's not a good recipe for those who want to stay abstinent.





	Something that you need

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at Smut so be gentle with my ass ok? Also con-crit is so appreciated?? like I appreciate tf out of that shit <3

The hours stretched before Nathan, long and vast and empty. On any other occasion a slump like this would be welcome, but that usually required one of two things to work. Number 1) Sam and number 2) his motorcycle. And since the two seem to be intrinsically linked now, Nate was left to his devices in what basically constituted as a prison. Swap out the static-y tv for a toilet bowl and the cheesy tropical wallpaper for cement and voilá, prison del Nate.

Nate sighs, closing his eyes against the air con. At the very least that worked. Somewhere mid-morning, Nate had stripped down to his boxers, the air outside too hot to even open a window. He’d have taken a walk if it wasn’t otherwise. Maybe taken a train to the coast or something like that. 

How Sam managed to still wear a hawaiian shirt and a vest in this weather was a mystery in itself. He feels like he might die of heatstroke even with just his underwear.

Nate looks down he at the grey fabric, pinches the edges. Its thin material enough but Nate wants it off. He feels the flutter of desire work through his stomach and suddenly the thought is more urgent.

Nate looks at the clock. 3pm. He wouldn't back until six. Nate had plenty of time to clean up.

He shucks the fabric off, biting his lip a little as it catches on his dick. Things like this were relegated to hotel stays and dark nights, usually ending as quickly as it started. So it’s natural that the first impulse Nate has is to lick his hand bring himself off as fast as possible, to do it quietly, and to do it with a little bit of shame.

But this was different. Sam was gone, the sun was streaming through the curtains and the heat was pressing in on Nate on all sides. And Nate? Nate has time. He has plenty of it. So instead of licking his palm, instead of doing the usual, he brings his hand to slowly suck on his finger tips and takes as long as he likes. His eyes flutter close as the sensations hit him. The way he can taste the salt and the sweat on the pads of his index and middle fingers, the sloppy way his tongue swirls around them, bringing out a groan. He loses himself to the steady sensation of it, fingers pressed against his tongue, the saliva leaking out in the corners of his mouth.

Nate begins to suck.

He moans around his finger tips because suddenly the soft pressure of his lips is there, and his mouth is hot and wet. He imagines that his moan is somebody else’s but he doesn’t know whether it’s him that's giving it, or the one that’s taking it.

His lips tingle. All he knows is that it feels good. All he knows is that he wants more

Usually there’s an image, a scenario, a place, but Nate doesn’t mind that nothing’s coming up. His head is hazy with the heat and it seems like his body is too. He presses his fingers harder against his tongue, imagining how he looks. Opening his mouth up like that, feeling how soft it all is. Looking at how eager Nate is, a perfect O, lips cherry red and slick. 

Heat begins to pool at Nate’s stomach, as the idea coalesces itself into existence. Someone is cradling his neck, familiar and comforting. It slides up to nape and settles by Nate’s crown, then-

Nate grips his own hair with his other hand. The pain smarts, stinging his roots.

He imagines someone fucking his mouth.

_shit_

Nate looks down at himself, fully hard now. His hand that was in his hair had crept down to his cock without him even noticing it, slowly and lazily pumping it and doing it dry. He feels warmer and more embarrassed than he has any right to be, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn't even blink at it. Nate instead he licks the hand and lets relief and pleasure course through him as the saliva eases the movement.

The sensation brings him back to where he actually is. In a motel room, somewhere in Argentina, doing what teenagers do. The air itself feels heavy and it smells of little like his sweat. In the small part of his mind he hopes that when this is over, this place'll smell of sex instead. 

That'd it'd smell of _him._

All of a sudden his breaths seem louder in the silence of the room. More important. He huffs away, with quiet _hah hah hahs_ and listens to the the soft slap of flesh on flesh. It sounds dirty. It is. Nate’s dick twitches at the noise.

It isn't long before Nate is thinking of the image again. Nate wants, and he wants it so bad that he wants his jaws to ache when this is all over. He’d be tall, Nate decides, and he’d be strong enough that he’d be able to lift Nate like he was nothing.

All of that wouldn’t matter though when it came to him. When it came to Nate.

Because all Nate would have to do would be to look up. Just look up from his lashes for the other person to lose it, a groan ripping out of him, movements more frantic. He presses his fingers deeper into his mouth pretending that it’s the heaviness of another person's dick, weighted and thick.

Brown eyes would look down at him, voice cracking low and roughened, 

_“Nate… god Nate you look so good for me”_

Nathans eyes snap open, heart thumping in his chest. He bolts upright, eyes immediately flicking to the door.

The rush of blood is dizzying.

Did he just- No he couldn’t have. It was just-

_Shit._

He takes his fingers out of his mouth with a sick wet pop. He sucks in a deep breath. This was fine. It was fine. Being cooped up in a place like this, it was bound to happen. And it wasn’t as if Nate didn’t know. It wasn’t as if Nate couldn’t see that Sam was handsome. Because he was. And sure Nate had the teensiest of crushes on him, but that didn’t mean anything at all right?

It meant nothing, right?

Nate groans as he throws his head back onto the pillows.

Couldn’t he just have one nice thing in peace?

He looks back to still hard dick and wants to be ashamed that it hasn’t flagged. But he isn’t. He really really isn’t. Leave it to teenage hormones to make Nate shameless. Shakily he grabs it again with the hand he had sucked on, nearly hissing at the sensation.

_Fuck that felt good._

He rocks his hips a little before using his hand. Up and down, slow lazy pumps watching how his dick disappears in his fist. This was fine. Nate could be creative, he could just think of something else.

He thinks of the default.

Women. 

He thinks of all their curves and their breasts, the slow lazy way they can move, all liquid, all enthralling. He thinks about kissing soft lips and sucking on their nipples. He imagines their stomachs, flat and the cut of their v. He thinks biting it there, he thinks of-

_Crap. Crap. Crap._

He thinks of Sam.

Sam laughing at Nate as he tries to be seductive, Sam throwing Nate onto the bed, crawling over him, spreading his legs out and _fuck,_ taking him apart. Sam being Sam, looking at Nate as if he was the only person that mattered, as if he was the only for him in this whole world.

Nate wants groan again but not in the good way. He wants to smack some sense into himself, take a breather, think of anything else but this. But. But rhythm is picking up and Nate just. Can’t. Stop.

Nate moans. 

Pleasure swirls around the base of his stomach and if you couldn’t fight it, Nate gasps, well you might as well join it. 

A flurry of memories wash over Nate's mind.

He remembers the time where Sam had him against the wall, thigh pressed against his crotch trying to shield Nathan from the pursuers. He imagines Sam pushing into him that just bit further and realising Nate was rock hard, a flick down Nate’s jeans, and then a careful crafted smirk, a smirk that almost feel like a threat.

He remembers the stretch of Sam’s back as they went skinny dipping on private property, sinews moving smoothly as he cut through the water and the pale creamy skin on the inside of Sam's thighs. He'd wanted to bite it, kiss the little dips right above Sam's ass. Nate looked away instead.

He remembers Sam touching the hickies on his neck, looking at Nate with grin and a shake of his head. Nate imagines him staying, peeling off Nate’s shirt and pressing more than just his fingers over Nate’s bruises. He imagines Sam adding to the splash of purple, bruise over bruise, body over body.

They would rut and fuck like animals, Nate decided. Too desperate for anything else than the assurance that they’re still alive. Sam would rock up into Nate, wedging him between sheets and the impossible heat between them. Laughing into the curve of Nate’s neck at how eager both of them are. Laughing while Nate would moan, and grinning the whole way through. He would laugh and laugh and laugh, until Nate is reduced into a mess, a human version of a puddle and Sam would stop laughing and would start fucking. But that wouldn't mean that he wouldn't be tender. He’d press kisses to where Nate had thrown his head back, hold Nate's hand as Nate shook himself apart and Nate would be crying for Sam to just do it, to just fucking touch him. And Sam would. He always always would.

Nate gasps as he looks down himself, his whole body writhing and sweating. It’s desperate how much Nate wants it. How much he wants Sam. Pleasure is only building by the base of his spine and it’s surprising how good this feels. It’s surprising how much he doesn’t want this stop. 

Because trust him, there is a moment where Nate wants it to stop. 

A moment where the noise of the rational part of his brain shouts louder than the fog of pleasure, giving a multitude of reasons why this was the most bad of bad ideas Nathan’s ever had in the history of bad ideas. 

But. 

But all it takes is an image. 

One image of Sam’s smirk to send all crashing down. Of course, Sam was good at being bad.

Nate moans and thinks distantly, how he might look unhinged. With the way he's moaning, with how his hair has stuck to his forehead with his sweat soaked skin. But it doesn’t matter. Not when everything feels this good. Not when the Sam of his dreams is looking at him in this way

The mess of images crystallise and Nate is suddenly grounded again.  


He doesn’t think of the wall, or the hickies or the skinny dipping. No. Nate thinks of here. In this pay-per-day fleabox, air just as hot. Air just as heavy.

He thinks of Sam, coming in from the door and seeing Nate like this. Jacking off, sweat soaked and naked. And at first Nate wouldn’t see him, he’d be pumping his dick just like this, just like he was doing, focused on the sensation as each stroke brought sparks of pleasure down to his cock. But then Nate would see him and and everything would become different.

He’d put on a show. He’d look to Sam, and he’d put on a show. It was only fair right? With the way Sam got to look as good as he did, but never see what he was doing to Nate.

So Nate would do it. Would look at him as he fucked his hand and gasp out his name, heart in his throat, head in his hands.

Sam would walk over, slow and deliberate, jaw clenched and hands pressed into fists. And Nate would cry out for him again, just as he was doing now, blinking up and hoping that he would get the message. _I need you to be closer. Please come closer._

And Sam would. He always always would. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease. That he couldn’t play with Nathan just cause he could.

_“I don’t know Nate. Don’t you think this is messed up?”_

_“No.”_ Nate gasps out, his hips snapping up in his fist, _“No I don’t”_

_“Maybe I do.”_

And Nate would laugh.

_“Maybe you do.”_

And there would be no mistaking the look in his eyes, pupils blown wide. Because if Nate was screwed up in the head then Sam would even more so. Because Sam knew it was wrong and he _liked it._

He would slide his hand up and down the inside of Nate’s thigh, slowly, ever so slowly. Laughing just a little.

_“I think maybe I need a little convincing”_

_“Yeah?”_ Nate’s breath would catch as Sam’s thumb brushes past his balls.

 _“Yeah.”_ Round and round the thumb would go past but never close enough to the core of Nate to get any relief. Nate wouldn’t know kissed who first. Maybe Nate because he’s frustrated. Maybe Sam because he’s not. But suddenly there would be a clashing of teeth, tongues twisting against each other pouring liquid heat down Nate’s spine. He knows he might be gasping and moaning like a pornstar, but he doesn’t want this to stop, not when Sam’s cradling his face like this, not when he’s teasing Nates bottom lip with his teeth like this.

Nate’s lungs would burn. Shock and pleasure crashing his body as Sam wraps a hot hand over Nate’s and pumps. It would feel so good that Nate would almost want to cry, but Sam would be there again, swallowing up the whine building at the back of Nate’s throat.

 _“God Nate you look so damn good.”_ He’d say in between kisses, sucking bruises right above Nate’s collarbone, right where everyone could see. _“You wanna be good for me?”_

And Nate would be embarrassed by how quickly he would say “Yes.” Hiss it out half a gasp, half a plead. He’d look down and see how Sam’s hand would slow, the pressure lightening, sadistic in the way Nate never knew it could be.

_“Then tell me what you want”_

And Nate would look up at Sam then, and it’d feel like too much. He’d be so close, Nate is already so close, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

_“Yes you can, Nate c’mon it’s not that hard.”_

Nate would shake his head, unable to use words, nerves too raw for anything but a moan and curse words. He rock his hips up, groaning at the friction, but he’d pay for it. Sam’s hand would stop and press themselves against the bones of Nate’s hips.

_“Ah ah ah Nate. If you wanna get off I need to hear you say it.”_

_“Fuck you”_ But Nate says it out of desperation, more than anger. He’s close, he’s so so very close.

But Sam would laugh like he always would. _“I’m sure you want to Nate, but that’s not what I’m asking. Just-”_

He’d come close, kissing Nate tenderly, _“Settle down.”_

They’d slow down for a moment and Nate would only notice then, how Sam’s hands would travel up and down his sides, driving the air in Nate’s lungs out. He’d flick a nipple here or there, as they kissed and he would dutifully swallow down any moans that Nate had to offer. Sam would kiss his lips, then travelling down, would kiss his jaw, following its line until Sam reached Nate’s ear.

He’d whisper low and sweetly, _“I’m just asking you what you need Nate. That’s all I need. I need you to trust me.”_

And Nate could never truly say no to Sam. Not really. He looks to Sam as Sam looks to him and it’s enough.

_“Jesus Sam I need you”_

And just like that Sam would be gone, withdrawing and leaving Nate with an empty space. Nate would panic just for a moment and then suddenly there would be a hot wet heat around his cock and Nate would gasp because there Sam was.

Looking up from him under his lashes, brown eyes with a hint of a grin, bobbing up and down Nate’s cock. 

_“Sam”_ Nate moans, his heart ready to jump out of his chest, “Sam don’t stop, fuck”

Sam would hum in the joking way of his, but it wouldn't matter, because the vibrations would be going straight to Nathan's dick. Then Sam would be laughing, and it'd be worse, so much worse. Because Sam would slow down. He'd tease Nathan because he could. Tongue swirling around Nathan's head, kissing it and sliding it on his lips. His cupid bow and curve of his bottom lip, the only thing visible between Nate's dick. And just when Nate would ask him to knock it off and to hurry it up, Sam would know. He'd do it. But only the way that he'd want to, relentless, almost cruel. Bobbing quickly down and sucking all the way up, sending tidal waves of pleasure through Nate, making him writhe, making him feel like his whole body was lit with flames.

"Sam" Nate whines, "Sam please, please-"

The air in his lungs is high and tight, the pleasure building up and up and up-

The orgasm hits him so hard that Nate whites out, he barely recognises Sam’s name tearing out of his lungs, his throat, his mouth. Cum shoots over Nate’s naked shaking body, spilling onto his hand but Nate doesn’t even notice it, head clouded in a haze. He flumps back onto the bed, sticky everywhere and he sighs, eyes fluttering close.

The cold air washes over his body.

A crash.

“Nate?”

Sam blinks at him from the door.

**Author's Note:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> thank you for reading!  
> if you like or dislike, hmu tell me why? I'd love to hear your thoughts :)
> 
> (or if you, yeno wanna scream at me you can find me at my tumblr at in-diem.tumblr.com!)
> 
> Ciao cari!!
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


End file.
